


sleep away the pain

by dayqiow



Category: House of Wax (2005)
Genre: Hurt, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Nightmares, PTSD, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, bo is hurting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-13 03:07:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29021697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dayqiow/pseuds/dayqiow
Summary: Bo can't seem to find an escape from his parents, no matter how hard he tries.
Kudos: 4





	sleep away the pain

Sleep wasn't an escape for him, even as an adult, no matter how long it's been since he was strapped down onto that fucking high chair, the nightmares never seemed to end. One moment, he was fine, closing his eyes, breathing calm, and when he opened them, his arms and legs were wrapped in multiple layers of tape, digging painfully into his wrist. He can still smell the lingering scent of blood in the air.

It wasn't his fault, not really. He never could sit still as a child, never really learned when he needed to stop wiggling around. 

Hell, he couldn't remember the first time his pa tied him up; the clearest one he could remember was when he accidentally slammed the bathroom door and ended up being in that high chair overnight. He'd been three, and that's when he'd gotten his first scar. His mother never cared, always wanting to please his father, to focus on her work, or to help precious Vincent. 

Vincent. Fuckin' Vincent. His brother who never tried to help him, never tried to break him free. Bo didn't know if it was because the other was too fuckin' stupid to work a pair of scissors, or if he was too scared of what would happen to him in the aftermath. The rational part of Bo knew he shouldn't blame his little brother, his twin, but ( dammit ), why did he get all the love? He knew it wasn't real, knew it was a dream, but it ( felt ) real. He could still feel the burn of the tape heating up as he tried to wiggle free, the tightness in his chest because ( he couldn't move ), and God forbid he ever have to go to the restroom. 

It was confusing, really. It hurt. It killed him on the inside. His cries were usually drowned out by his mother's records, or his father listening to a preacher in the next room. God, please help him, please. He never did, though. Was this his punishment for causing Vincent to look the way he did? Or was he just born ( bad ), a true monster? That's what his father liked to call him. A monster. Frantic wiggling now, and he's ( screaming ), calling out for his brother like he did when he was younger. He swears he can see the mask watching him in the distance. 

"Vincent––( Vinnie ), it hurts, please!" He sounds so young now, pain and fear filling his screams, but no one helps him. No one ever helps him. The only person Bo Sinclair can count on is himself, and when he wakes up with tears in his eyes, and the scars upon his skin aching, he knows damn well he'll never let anyone make him feel powerless again.


End file.
